


All in good time

by ChocoNut



Series: Tales of love (Season 3/4) [41]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 4x4, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff, JBWeek2020, season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:27:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26749498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoNut/pseuds/ChocoNut
Summary: Brienne keeps reminding Jaime about Sansa. And he keeps putting off action for later.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Series: Tales of love (Season 3/4) [41]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1483640
Comments: 10
Kudos: 55
Collections: Jaime x Brienne Week 2020





	All in good time

**Author's Note:**

> For "sloth", though it may not entirely fit the prompt  
> I can never get tired of continuing this scene, so here goes another one.  
> Thank you for reading!

“Give me a few more days,” Jaime tells her, when they meet for the second time at the Godswood. “I’m still thinking, I’m hoping to come up with something.”

Recalling the first time they’d had this conversation, Brienne looks down Sansa. Lost in her woes, the girl is a pitiable sight. Will she ever be able to get out of this hell and find peace again?

“After the royal feast,” he says, sensing the next question she’s about to voice. “I’ll try to speak to father, find a way to free her from this prison.”

Of course, she believes him. Despite the way he’d dismissed her during their last stroll here, despite the complacency she’d fleetingly suspected in him then, she knows he’ll keep his word.

+++++

“But you told me you’ll speak to your father.”

Sansa is, by routine, murmuring away in silent prayer down where she usually is, but Brienne can sense a storm brewing inside her. This is no ordinary calm.

“I decided against it,” Jaime spills it out, a crooked half-smile finding its way to his lips. “Lately, I’ve been observing that I haven’t been a welcome addition to my family. I almost feel like they resent my return these days.” He tries to sound calm, but there is a buried hurt in his voice, a difficulty to digest such sour behaviour from the ones he was ready to die for. “Father’s never going to agree to let go of his solitary hold on the North, and more importantly—” the smile vanishes and in its place appears a grimace of disapproval “—the king might only make things more difficult for her if he gets wind of my intention.”

Disappointment hits her, but she agrees. Besides, all’s not lost, yet. She still has Jaime on her side. “What do you propose?”

“I’ll have to smuggle you both out.” He doesn’t sound too confident, though. “And it can be planned only after the royal wedding is over. With the guests still pouring in, until then, security will be quite heavy.” 

Brienne looks into those honest green eyes. She’s quite certain he’ll try his best.

+++++

“Come in.”

She pauses at the door, contemplating how best to tell him what she’s here to convey. “Ser Jaime—”

“I’ll make all the arrangements after the funeral,” Jaime says, looking up from his book before she can announce the purpose of her visit. “I haven’t forgotten, Brienne.”

“I—” she pauses, then approaches him cautiously. “I’m not here to remind you about Sansa’s rescue. I just came to see if—” She looks away, then returns to meet his eyes the next instant. “I came to offer my condolences.”

A momentary tenderness takes over his eyes when he nods his acknowledgement. “Getting you out of here—I don’t want to send you away just like that—” He paces a few steps before coming to a halt in front of her. “If you want to be anywhere near successful in locating the girl, you’ll need some help. And for that I’ll need some royal intervention.”

“But the king—” _is gone_ , she cannot bring herself to say.

“I’m afraid it’ll have to hold until the new king is crowned.”

“Of course,” Brienne mumbles.

“If I had acted earlier you wouldn’t have lost Sansa,” he says, when she’s about to leave. “I hope you don’t think I’ve been complacent—”

“I know you’ll act in her best interests,” she allays his worry.

“And _yours_ ,” Jaime adds, the ghost of a smile appearing on his lips.

+++++ 

Days have gone by after their last covert meeting in his White tower chambers, and since then, Brienne hasn’t heard from him, seen him, even. More than her mounting urgency to set out to find Sansa, she’s worried about Jaime. Joffrey was his son, after all, and no matter how tattered the relations might have been between them, there’s a fatherly attachment that’ll always linger within him.

One other thing that bothers her—his absence in her life, the emptiness it’ll bring her despite filling her with purpose.

But such is life. And when has it ever been fair to her?

But him—his family has been the centre of his existence, and to bear with what he’s been facing day after day—

An immediate urge to meet him takes over and she makes her way to his room. It is not to inquire of her departure, just something deep down that craves a need for his presence.

“Come in,” he calls, his tone bearing its usual crispness. “And close the door behind you.”

“I just came to—” she begins to cite her reason, but falls short. What is she going to tell him? That she simply dropped in for an untimely and probably inappropriate chat at this hour of the night?

“Your paperwork came in yesterday—” he hands her an envelope bearing the royal seal “—I was just about to meet with you.” He doesn’t seem too happy with his achievement. “You’re free to leave by first light tomorrow, my lady.”

“I—” after days of waiting for this, she doesn’t know what to say, the strange sensation in her belly, pulling her down, tugging at her from inside. “You have my gratitude, Ser Jaime,” she says, hoping she’s not sounding dejected. 

“I do agree it has taken me longer than necessary—” he walks over to a figure draped in white standing alongside the wall “—and while the decree was issued yesterday, this—” he dragged down the sheet to uncover something “—has taken quite a while to arrive. I thought to wait for it instead of bidding you goodbye a day earlier.”

She stares open-mouthed at the most beautiful suit of armour she’s ever set eyes on. 

“Say something,” he murmurs, and she can feel his eyes on her while she’s admiring the surprise he’s sprung up on her. “I—” he halts, and when she turns back to him, she can make out a faint blossoming of colour on his cheeks “—I hope I got your measurements right.”

Stunned and flustered, she’s still speechless. At his gesture, the softness in his voice, the way he’s looking at her.

“Brienne—” he starts again, studying her face “—were you thinking I’ve been procrastinating all along? Putting off your—”

“I didn’t say that,” she bounces back in reassurance. “You know that’s not what I think about you.”

He tilts his head, as if observing her more intently. “So what do you think?” 

Her mouth suddenly runs dry, and she turns to the armour again. “It’s exquisite.”

“About me, Brienne.” He advances a few paces. “What do you think about me?”

She swallows, hoping that’ll ease the burning in her throat. “I’m grateful for all you’ve done, Ser Jaime. If it weren’t for you—”

“That’s not an answer to my question, wench.”

“You’re a good man,” she says, turning her eyes back onto his, “and—”

“I did it all because I—” he looks away. “I couldn’t let you go without the armour.” Moving away from her, he reaches out for the sword he’s laid out on the table. “And—” he backs out of the rest of what he was about to say.

She followed him to the table, eyes dropping to the blade and its exquisite craftsmanship. “And?”

“I have something else for you.” He removes the sword off its stand and offers it to her. 

“I can’t—” she starts to object.

“It’s yours.” He crosses over to her side of the table and hands it to her. “Do not deny me this privilege, wench.”

The longing in his voice is unmistakable. Knowing not what to make of it, she accepts her gift, takes to admiring it, caressing the lion on the hilt. 

“I wish I could come with you, Brienne,” he breathes, his fingers on the pommel, brushing against hers. “If only I could just leave all this behind and just—” His look is enough to tell her the rest.

She puts the sword back to where it had been sitting. “Why?”

His fingers curl around her wrist and leans in, lips so close to hers that they could be kissing with the next slightest move. “Do you really want me to tell you why?”

“I can’t forget you,” she admits, and she can feel her lips twitching every time his breath hits her. “I can’t—” _get over you,_ she means to tell him, but she can’t go on, her poor heart doesn’t permit her to.

“You’d better not forget me,” Jaime says, eyes crinkling into an affectionate smile, “because as soon as you’ve found the girls and restored them to where they belong, I’m going to be heading out to Tarth to have a word with your father, my lady.”

Returning his smile, she eases closer to him. “Then I’d better be leaving tomorrow itself.”

“Tomorrow,” he agrees, his fingers moving up her arm. “At least, we have this one night together.” 

Yes, tomorrow, but until then, she has his company, his touch, his sweet kisses. And perhaps, more.

All of this, every moment, she’ll treasure until it’s time for them to meet again.


End file.
